


Ambiguous Lines

by mt_lyfe



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Criminal Stiles Stilinski, Dark Lydia, Dom! Lydia, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Femslash, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Orgasm Denial, Police Officer Derek Hale, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_lyfe/pseuds/mt_lyfe
Summary: They think that because she's five feet, red headed and clad in Prada that she's just a figurehead. Until a handgun pulled from a thigh holster is jammed into their mouths and teeth, brains and blood are littering the cold concrete. No one has doubts about who’s in charge of the Syndicate after that.The mob is steadily gaining more power in New York city and Derek's been put in charge to investigate.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Adam Ate the Apple](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077504) by [elysiumwaits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits). 



> I tried.

“Fuck!” Captain Derek Hale shouted, “I’m going to ream whoever that called in that false lead!”

They pried the crate open only to find a shipment of Electronics. Nothing incriminating and all the paperwork checked out. The team had gotten word that a shipment of the latest LSD that’d been plaguing the city’s night clubs was coming in through the pier and they’d closed off the docks. The lead turned out to be a bust.

Five years into the police force when Derek first got handed the case files for the most notorious gang in New York’s dark underbelly. The Syndicate. No one had pinned anything solid on who the important figures were until Derek got put in charge of investigation. A year in after busting a drug operation and bringing small fry in, the lowest of the low with no useful information on the inner workings of the gang he finally got his break.

A name. ‘Stiles’. The enforcer for someone only known as ‘The Lady’. It was more than anyone else had gotten since the Syndicate rose from nowhere to instill fear in New York’s underworld.

Two more years after that and he’d been promoted to Captain and was still no closer to unraveling the intricate workings of the Syndicate.

Nobody knew her name or if they did, they were too terrified to say even under threat and interrogation. The only reason they’d even gotten her Left hand’s name was because apparently, they wanted them to know. It probably wasn’t even a real name because nothing came up in the system.

All they knew was this man was responsible for all the ostentatious deaths surrounding suspected members of the rival mafia. The man apparently couldn’t resist showing off. One would think that he was purposefully being flashy to draw attention away from something or someone.

Nothing could be found on who was the Lady’s Right Hand. The second in command was even more of a mystery considering they didn’t even have a name or title. The NYPD would have thought it was Stiles if not for the occasional death that came up on their radar that didn’t match Stiles’ MO. A clean break to the neck only possible by a much larger man.

All Derek could do was to keep an ear out on the streets, investigate, make arrests, and interrogate.

He was busy pouring over the latest mission reports when Lieutenant Jordan Parrish and long-time friend on the force came in to chat. “The Gala is coming up, when are we going to see your beau?”

The guy was constantly reminding him that he didn’t have a life outside the office.

“You know I’m not married.” Derek grunted. Annoyed that on top of all the paperwork he had to go through he’d have to show up at some ostentatious gala to play nice just because the Commissioner was going to be there. “That hasn’t changed so stop nagging me about it.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t see people! Stop working so damn hard and go out and meet someone. You haven’t brought anyone to ball in the entire time you’ve been on the force.”

“Captain!” Officer Romero burst in, “we’ve got a tip that someone high up in the Syndicate is going to be at the pier for a firearms shipment, it’s from a trusted source.”

Derek jumped out of his seat, “get the team, let’s go!”

* * *

Firecrackers rigged to go off as the crates were pried open. Everyone ducked amidst the explosion of exploding red sparks and smoke. Someone off from the back takes the opportunity slip out of the handcuffs and makes a run for it while the officers are diving for cover.

Derek cursed, the precinct was so close to apprehending this criminal and he just gave them the slip from the orchestrated distraction. They can’t afford to lose him or there will be hell to pay. The station was lucky to get the tip or they’d never even know that Stiles was going to be here for this shipment.

He bolted after the crook.

Derek whipped his gun out and aimed, “NYPD freeze!”

The perp slowed to a halt, leisurely raising his hands into the air in a non-threatening manner before turning around with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Hello there handsome,” the criminal said flirtatiously.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, for the record this doesn’t count as a date.”

“Don’t play cute with me,” Derek growled.

“Alright bite down babe.”

Derek nodded then braced himself.

When their worlds collided, and they saw each other while on the job it was both hilarious and dangerous. Nothing like a snarky ‘hi honey why don’t you introduce me to your co-workers,’ countered with a ‘well I tried, Greenburg did cuff you, but you ran away, was he that scary’ by Derek to remind them that time was running out for the both of time, time before they’d be discovered.

The roundhouse kick was still a thing of beauty even as Derek was knocked back into the shipping container almost passing out. A quick peck on his cheek, a “see you at dinner” and the man vaulted over the fence and out of sight.

Derek laid there and pretended to just come to when his backup arrived. He groaned gingerly feeling his now swollen jaw. He’d jumped back just as the blow landed to lessen the damage so he wouldn’t have a concussion but a nice shiner to show for it. “Fucker caught me off guard. Guy’s got a killer roundhouse kick.”

Now he was going to be buried in paperwork because there was a leak in the Syndicate and someone called in that damn tip.

Another day in the life of living a lie to his co-workers. None of whom he was remotely attached to. It was all for the end goal.

* * *

Working ten, twelve, fourteen-hour shifts was not fun. But coming home was always worth it. Not his other home. This home that would definitely look suspicious had it been registered under his name. A place that would raise questions on whether someone with a cop’s salary could afford a penthouse in the heart of downtown New York.

He trudged up the long flights of stairs to his apartment. Slotting the key in and turning, hesitating for a moment before stepping inside. The lights were off, curtains drawn. It was completely dark in the room save for the soft glow of the appliances lighting his way. He went through his routine easily enough in the dark.

“Long day.” There was someone sitting on the living room shrouded in darkness casually sipping from a glass of whiskey. His back was facing the door.

Derek stripped himself of his badge and standard issued firearm and put both into the safe as was protocol before he flipped the lights on.

“Of course,” Derek grumbled. “Raid gone wrong someone tipped off the gang.”

“I wonder who that could be,” the other hummed.

“We're suspecting Matt Daehler. He was in charge of the operation and the newest. He didn't exactly leave his last precinct on a good note. Some think he's dirty.”

“Huh.”

“He'll be suspended and put under review. There's a good chance something will come up.”

“Well that’s too bad,” the other commented. The laughter in his voice was very evident.

Turning to finally face his husband of ten years he looped a hand around his tie and yanked down for a heated kiss.

Stiles Stilinski the Syndicate’s enforcer, Lydia's left-hand man broke the kiss and pulled away to get a good look at his lover’s work worn face. “You gotta cut down on the hours Der.”

“Well some asshat had to tip the cops off about the shipment. Now I’m buried in mission reports and background checks of every member in the precinct.”

“Yea, yea I’m looking into the leak on my side, thanks for the notice, we moved the schedule up and everything’s packed away.”

“Stop talking about work.” Derek’s hand slipped under Stiles’ shirt brushing the small triskelion tattoo on his collarbone matching the one on his back. They weren’t married by law. No paperwork, no trail. Derek’s address wasn’t even registered to this penthouse. But the tattoo was their one indulgence in their relationship. He was extremely careful never to change in front of anyone.

All his time on the force had been carefully feeding the Syndicate information and burying evidence. His record was actually clean, that was why he was the one sent in as a plant working from the bottom up. He was the reason all the police raids were a bust and he controlled what little information the police did learn about the gang.

* * *

Derek practically lived at the station most days. He had his own office and multiple changes of clothes at hand considering how often he spent the night there.

It was nearing two am and he was the only one left looking over the reports of the latest bust. A minor success this time. But no one important was arrested. They'd got their hands on a small cargo of firearms though. It was give and take. Derek wouldn't stop every single shipment, or they'd suspect something, just the important ones.

Footsteps echoed and his office door creaked open. Derek looked up and startled, “are you insane, what are you doing here?”

Stiles answered with his usual shit eating grin. “You've never caught me I don't even know what the inside of a police station looks like. I figured I would visit my husband at work considering he never leaves it. The bed is getting cold. Come home Der.”

He sighed, “I'm almost done with the report.”

“I brought leftover Thai.”

Derek glared. In the ten years of marriage Stiles had never once step foot into the precinct to visit him. It was suicide. “So what are you really doing here?”

“The Lady, or as I like to call her our Goddess Supreme wants something from storage and she was gracious enough to send me. So hang on a hot sec and I’ll be right back.”

“Did you avoid the cameras before coming in?”

“Pfft this isn't my first time on the job, turned them off long before I came in.”

“Do you even know where lock up is?”

“Just because I’m that good to never have been arrested doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around here. I watch you on the cameras when I’m bored sometimes. The uniform really does it for me.”

Derek snorted.

* * *

The yearly Police Gala or cop ball as the precinct like to call it was really just a place for people to schmooze and kiss ass with the higher ups. Derek had zero interest for networking if not for Commissioner Gerald Argent.

The man was paranoid, for a good reason. Publicly he was the Commissioner, respected icon of New York’s finest. His other face was involved with running the human trafficking ring and brothels in the city while he publicly poured funding into fighting gang violence and placing any blame on the Syndicate. He rarely appeared in public and the Gala was one of the few times he made an appearance. This wasn’t a chance he could pass up on.

The Lady had her hands in drugs and firearms, but she drew the line at human trafficking. Gerald Argent was going down.

The Lady really did have a finger in every pot in New York, she also had her fingers specifically in Allison Argent the head of Argent Security. Both literally and figuratively. Sleeping with the head of security who was also in charge of the Gerald Argent’s detail the night of the gala got Stiles an in posing as part of the protection detail. Gerald’s execution was imminent. 

* * *

_The death of Commissioner Gerald Argent has shocked the city. No one knew when Argent had disappeared from the Police Gala he attended last night or how his body resurfaced early this morning, cause of death a broken neck. The body was found in front of City Hall along with a photo missing from police lock up tying late Commissioner to the human trafficking case nearly a month ago. Investigations are underway._

* * *

“Congratulations on your promotion to Commissioner, Hale!” Parrish popped open a bottle of champagne, the cork went flying in Derek’s direction.

He swatted it away before it hit his face and winced slightly rubbing his wrist.

“What happened to your hand Commissioner,” Parrish teased, “did you injure it filling out paperwork?”

“It’s acting commissioner,” Derek grunted. “nothing is set in stone yet until the investigation is over. I just overshot twisting it is all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Femslash warning**
> 
> You see that allydia relationship tag? I wasn't going to leave it as a background pairing. I'm writing femslash for the first time and exploring it. I don't like the words 'cunt' or 'pussy'. I had a lot of fun with with this chapter though.

_Before Gerald Argent's demise..._

They think that because she's five feet, red headed and clad in Prada that she's just a figurehead. Until a handgun pulled from a thigh holster is jammed into their mouths and teeth, brains and blood are littering the cold concrete. No one has doubts about who’s in charge of the Syndicate after that.

Of course she doesn't clean up, that's what the survivors of her wrath are assigned to do and never to go against her orders again. Her word is Law. Some call her the Banshee, her screams herald the death of her enemies. Some think it’s her Left Hand that does all the dirty work but they're wrong; she's just as capable of enacting the Banshee’s omens herself.

* * *

She meets her on the walk back home through a shady alley, clicking heels on cement coming to a halt when three thugs corner her. From the shadows, arrows fly out and embed themselves through the thugs’ shoulders. They howl in pain as they run away.

Allison steps out looking like a reaper in a long black trench coat and crossbow. Lydia’s a vision in stilettos, a short white dress and Chanel purse looking at her rescuer. The meeting is of course planned so she allows Allison this instance of thinking that she can't protect herself only once. She invites Allison back to her bed and it spirals from there.

* * *

There’s a shoot-out at the gala where they are having their date when a masked group of gunmen burst through the doors. One of the gunmen has gotten trigger-happy and blows off the MC’s head to prove a point. She doesn't flinch when blood splatters her. Red blood matches her red hair. Allison even goes as far to protect her, snapping into bodyguard mode by hauling her off to the side and under a table, bodily shielding her the entire way.

It’s dark under the table but the carpet is soft. She thinks it's mildly cute that Ally thinks she needs protecting. The feel of Allison’s breasts pressing against her helps. They keep her from storming back out and putting a few bullets into their brains for ruining her date. She reaches up and occupies her time with rubbing Allison’s nipples through her dress shirt then unbuttoning it to fondle the mounds.

Allison’s thigh slips between her legs and as she hisses “what are you doing?!”

Lydia doesn’t care and grinds her clit into that delicious friction while chaos reigns on the other side of the tablecloth.

The cops show up just as her orgasm crescendos and Ally’s gasping breathless cries tell her she’s not far behind as she furiously fingers and rubs her g-spot. She’s finally gotten with the program. When the cops get around to taking statements, they roll out from under the table hair mussed and sated.

Poor Allison who warms her bed was still oblivious to her dark nature.

* * *

Their next date is at the gun range. Only the targets are live. They're the gunmen that tried to hold down the gala last week. They'd been brought into custody, but she had Stiles break them out and dragged here by their teeth to line up for execution. You don't cross the Lady on her date, or you’ll hear the banshee wailing, sealing your demise.

Her cold emerald green eyes meet those shocked brown ones, the steel gaze daring Ally to think she's weak again.

* * *

Lydia’s in the middle of edging Allison who’s strapped to a chair and gaged, sitting on a dual vibrator when the phone rings.

“Hold on babe,” Lydia says, before she goes to answer the call.

Allison squirms.

_“It’s confirmed, Gerald’s not going to miss the Gala for anything. He’s conceited and puts too much trust in Argent Security.”_

Her Right Hand does the best work. Now she just needs one more thing to fall into place for the plan to work. Lydia hangs up without a word and turns back to Allison.

“Ally babe, I need a favor,” she removes the vibrator and slides a finger in and crooks it just so, teasingly. She brings the vibrator back just hovering over her clit. Allison squirms and twitches and tries to thrash for more friction. Her thighs and ankles are strapped to the chair spread wide open. She’s been kept on the brink of orgasm for an hour, but Lydia’s not finished with her. “I have a friend; he really wants to meet the commissioner at the Police Gala. You'll help me, right?” She presses the vibrator harder before depraving her of the friction again.

Allison’s trembling and taut, she thrashes in the chair and gives a muffled scream, “yes! Anything!”

“I knew you'll help,” she croons. Lydia loves a woman who knows how to a handle crossbow and which knives to best slit someone’s throat with, but she loves being in charge more.

Allison learns to fall in line with the Syndicate and Lydia’s orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Consider everything I write as the last thing I'll ever write. I don't know if I'll think of more ideas for this but I do try to tie up loose ends and leave every chapter as if it were the last.


End file.
